The Last Something That Meant Anything
by foshoitstori
Summary: Tohru Honda dies after falling off of a cliff. Kyo Sohma falls apart. Written in second person from Kyo's POV. Intense angst. Spoilers for chapters 120 of the manga.
1. Chapter 1

Warm sunrays shine on your face and you can't help but feel like they contradict how cold it is outside. It's only brief, though, because as soon as the clouds move, your cheeks freeze over again.

It isn't even that cold outside, not really. It's fifty-six degrees today, a lot warmer than it has been for the last few days.

But still, you feel like a snowman. You can't move. Your face is pale white, and your arms are stray branches given to you with no real purpose _(or maybe so you can feel more whole)_, because you couldn't lift them if you tried. And just like the cold you're built with, you're frozen to your very core.

You can feel the hairs on your nape stand, a cold shiver clawing up your spine. You can feel it at the end of your toes to your fingertips. You can't hear anything, a sharp, constant ringing the only sound coming through in a never-ending string. If you zone out completely, that's all you can hear. But you're starting to come back to reality, and somewhere in between you begin to hear the fast pounding of your heart.

One thought lingers for a bit too long in the back of your mind, fighting for full attention at the front of your brain. _It's your fault._

Panic swells in those three little words. You push them away, teeth grinding and buckets filling behind your eyes, and you're about to topple them over.

Suddenly, reality swings back, throwing you off balance as the sound of someone — within very close proximity — speaking to you. You didn't even know they were there, and your not noticing startles you more than anything else. Your vision unblurs to see Yuki standing in front of you.

His face is sullen, a confusing mix of anger and sadness registering. His arms are crossing over his dark blue sweater and he can't won't isn't looking at you. _(It's your fault and he knows. He knows he knows.)_

He looks like shattered glass, broken into tiny pieces.

"What?" You think you ask.

"Are you coming to the hospital or not, Kyo?" He sighs, and more of the anger than sadness comes through in his voice. How long did he talk to you before you noticed?

Wait. The hospital? When did they load her onto the gurney? When did the ambulance leave with her dying in the back time needs to slow down. OptionsOptionsOptions what are you going to _dosay_thinkKyo.

You turn in the other direction, away from Yuki, away from Shigure, away from his car and the hospital and Tohru on a stretcher — and you run away.

Isn't that what you do best?

* * *

You don't cry.

At least not at first. Yuki and Shigure get home at midnight, and Shigure drops his keys on the table before going to his room.

Neither of them say a word to you.

Yuki slides into the floor before laying his head on folded arms while you watch from the living room. He's sobbing. _[No.]_

When he tells you, not lifting his head and barely choking out the words between terrifying, agonized crying, you just stand still. You stare blankly at him, the information like a virus trying to reach you, just _trying_ to get past your ears to your brain, but you don't want it there because that makes it real.

Only this is worse than any sickness.

She's dead.

No. No. _Nonononononono. _She's not. She can't be. She's not dead she's not she's not _she's not._

Your breathing becomes frantic and you feel like you just might fall aprt when you hear a click. Yuki doesn't hear it and no one else could hear it either, because the sharp snap of something coming together is in your head. It's in your brain, it's there, it's infected your every thought and you know it's fact but you can't accept it.

That's when it first starts. The beginning of the cruel twisting and pulling and_ aching_ your heart does. You feel like pressing your hand against your chest and stopping it right there when it's just starting to form, because it's a feeling you've had before and you don't want it. You need to shut it out.

Suddenly you hear your father's voice screaming it's your fault, it's your fault at your mother's funeral after she jumped in front of a train. You see her fake smile.

But overclouding everything, it's _her._

You tighten your hands into painful fists and press them hard against your chest, right where your heart is _(oh, but that's assuming you have one.). [worthless]_

You lean over, trying to rid the stinging out of your heart and you close your eyes tightly. It hurts to squeeze your eyes closed so viciously, but maybe this is all just a dream conjured up by your cruel mind and when you open your eyelids again she'll be here and not under a white sheet sleeping in a cold drawer at the morgue like she probably is right now because you yelled at her and you made her run away.

(It's your fault.)

* * *

**A/N: Um. Yeah. Hi. **

**That was awkward.  
**

**If you don't get some of the things happening so far, I'll fill you in.  
**

**This takes place after chapters 120+ when Tohru falls off a cliff after a confrontation with Akito. I'm taking it in a different direction than what already happened. See, in the beginning of this chapter (since it's not quite clear) we start off outside where Tohru fell off the cliff. The ambulance has taken her to the hospital. Kyo is dazed and not sure what's happening. And she dies instead of surviving. (Happy, right? I know you all want to kill me right now.)  
**

**Kyo starts to blame himself. And that's basically the gist of what's going on.  
**

**So now your awkward writer will ask for reviews because she's deprived of them and isn't quite sure why she's talking in third person.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

The funeral is two days later.

The thought of Tohru having a wake at seventeen has bile climbing up your throat and it's making it hard to breathe with a tie on. Shigure's suit is too big on you and your hands are clammy.

Everything is too real at this point.

You don't want to feel anything anymore. You feel like you need a sedation. Something so you can't feel the pain. Maybe it would numb your heart and you wouldn't feel something stabbing into it every time you take a breath.

You see your reflection in a tall mirror in the corner of your room and your first thought is you don't look the same. Nothing really looks the same. Everything is dimmer, like as soon as she stopped breathing the color was sucked out of everything and now you're in a black and white movie.

But it feels different with your face. It's changed but it's the same. You're pale. Almost ghostly. Your expression is blank and you're just staring back at yourself but you don't feel like you're looking at Kyo. It's someone else. Someone void. Like you don't have any real substance.

You look empty.

"Kyo?"

He's standing in the doorframe, in a suit that actually fits him (probably tailored by Ayame), hair neat and a sympathetic look on his face. You hadn't even heard him come in, strangely. Lately, you've been much less aware of the things around you.

You've been feeling irrational anger toward him. You can't help but place the blame on him. You hate that about yourself, along with so many other things.

"What?" You say. You don't mean to snap. It just comes out that way. You know it isn't right because he's been so nice to you and been composed when you weren't. Maybe your hostility towards him is a subconscious effort to distance yourself from him and everyone else. _[maybe it's always been that way]_

In the mirror, behind you you can see his lips tightening over his teeth in an attempt to stop himself from releasing the bitter words he longs so deeply to spit at you. You know he just wants to scream at you how much he blames you. _[you scream at yourself so often you'd hardly even notice]_

_Do it, _you think to yourself. It might ease your guilt just a bit.

He doesn't say anything.

You're still not facing him, both of you staring at each other in the mirror. You can see his eyes trail down to your shaking hands that are still clutching at your aching chest. You're only reminded of the pain when he becomes aware of it. It was there, just a dull throb when he first walked in. The invisible hand strangling your heart never loosened its grip. You had only momentarily forgotten about it.

But you feel it now. You feel it because Yuki can see it, and that makes it so much more real. You wish you knew why.

"We're ready to go." He says, finally, with a sigh.

_(you're not)_

* * *

Apparently, there are a few other funerals being held today because when you and Yuki and Shigure walk in an old man behind a desk asks, "Who are you here for?"

He doesn't say it unkindly, not at all, but you're afraid if you say her name the last few pieces of sanity you have might just shatter. You don't have to, though, because Shigure puts a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat before saying, "Honda, Tohru."

The man at the counter gives you a bittersweet smile and walks you to a much larger room, where the carpet's red and there are two rows of chairs separated at the center. A closed coffin sits at the front of the room and suddenly you're positive that you don't want to do this anymore.

But the three of you are the first ones there, and that's the only thing holding you together. You walk up to the casket and kneel before it and place your hands on the finished wood, the dark mahogany, the color of her hair. You feel Yuki's small hands on your shoulders and it doesn't even piss you off that he's touching you, because you feel a tear drip onto your head. For a few moments it's just the two of you and her body, no one else.

Your whole body starts to shake and your breathing becomes heavy, like something's trapped in your lungs and it won't let you live. Your chest starts aching again and you wish that whatever is in it would just kill you already. You cough through your choked sobbing and you say, "Oh God, Tohru, I love you. I love you."

Yuki starts to cry harder and he says, "It's okay,"

You're not sure what he thinks is okay because right now nothing is okay.


	3. Chapter 3

**_- One Week After the Funeral -_**

Your room is dark and the only light you can see is the glow from the moon through your window. It lightly illuminates the corner of the end of your bed and some of your floor. It's not enough light to be able to see much.

You turn the other direction in your bed and your legs get even more tangled in your sheets. You get annoyed for a second and kick your feet around to untangle yourself, but you run out of energy and they fall limp. Your legs shake even though it's not particularly cold outside or in your room, but you're freezing, so you yank your blanket over your shoulders.

You climbed into bed without putting on any pajamas. When was the last time you changed your clothes? _[does it matter?]_

This ache has gotten the best of you and you just can't seem to sleep.

You can't remember the last time you slept. It's been a while.

It's not because she's not with you, it's because she never leaves. She's the sound the rain makes when it drops on your roof and the footsteps you think your hear walking down the hall and the smell of rice cooking and the face you see the moment you close your eyes. Her name echoes and bounces off the walls and you hear her say, "Kyo," softly, like she used to, and you pull the covers over your head to drown her out because you don't want her memory, you want _her_.

You realize your breathing is becoming frantic and you put a fist to your chest to try and calm it down. You breathe slowly. Voices escape out with each exhale and you listen to the imaginary noises shouting ugly at each other in every room of the house.

The voices slipped into your mouth when you weren't looking, like a bug on a summer's night that claws at the inside of your mouth after you realize you swallowed it. The voices swam around your insides and multiplied — charred, tinny echovoices that made a permanent home inside the eggshell of your skull.

You toss and turn until morning when the sun's just starting to rise and find your pillow soaked in tears you don't remember crying.

/

Mornings are the hardest. The three of you sit like you always did and eat disgusting takeout that's not nearly as good as anything she used to make. It's supposed to be four. _Don't they notice? _

"Kyo?" Shigure still uses The Voice on you. A soft, almost-can't-hear-him quiet voice that kills you a little more each time he uses it. "You need to eat."

You realize that you've been staring at your food for the last twenty minutes. Everyone else is done eating. To your left, Yuki is silent. How can they eat?

Food lost it's appeal a while ago.

A lot of things lost their appeal a while ago.

Like living, for example.

/

You don't talk about anything with sharp edges. Maybe you're afraid they might poke into you and you'll burst.

"Kyo." Hatori says. You hear him but you don't acknowledge him. This is the second time you've sat in his office and he has pretended that he's your therapist and that he actually gives a shit about you. You don't know why anyone cares about your mental health when you're supposed to be locked up in the first place.

You know that he's been trying to talk to you the whole time you've been here. You almost glance up at the clock above his head to see just how long you've both been wasting your time _(every moment without her is wasted) _but then you realize that time doesn't matter, because you're counting the seconds until your time runs out.

Your clock is ticking.

At first, when you had these sessions with him, you could listen for a little bit, but it's been a while since then and you've gotten so good at tuning everything out that it comes naturally, as easy as breathing _(which, ironically, is becoming increasingly harder)._

You can just shut your ears off and the ringing continues. Sometimes you hate that you can do that. Because right now, your thoughts are the most dangerous place you can be. But you also know that what Hatori's saying is just as bad. Where's the happy medium? _[all the happiness died with her]_

"I'm sending you to a real therapist." His expression doesn't change when you look up - but he knows he's caught your attention. Therapy? What the fuck does he think therapy is going to do? It's been going just peachy in here.

You hate the way everyone treats you. Like you're a fragile doll, they're careful not to touch you or be around you too long, because they might slip and break you. But you don't object to it. There's no point. _[there isn't a point in anything anymore]_

Hatori just sits there, legs crossed and a clipboard with a pen clipped to the side resting on his knee, and he doesn't say anything else. He's waiting for you to say something. You debate whether or not to break your silent vigil, but the deliberation doesn't last long because you get tired. Why are you always so tired?

You can't decide if you're not nearly as breakable as you look or if breakable is an understatement. Either way, there's no way in hell he's sending you to a real therapist. You're not insane.

"No." You say, and speaking is as foreign to your tongue as it is to Hatori's ears. No one has heard you mumble a word since the funeral. But you weren't saying much even then. He looks shocked for a moment no timer can count, it's so short, before he plasters his usual calm look. It's so fake it makes you want to vomit. _[if there was anything _to _vomit]_

"I can't help you - " _[no one can] _"If you don't talk to me. And it's obvious that you're not going to. And - And even then, Kyo, I don't know if there's anything I can do. A professional can help you sort this out better than I can - "

"A professional?" There go the words slipping out again. You stand from your chair, calmly, not at all matching your tone. You feel some of your old fire climbing up your throat, fueling your sentences. "Is that what you did when you lost Kana? You went to see a _professional_?"

You realize the comparison you just made and what it implies. You were never anything to Tohru. No, that's not right. That sounds horrible talking about her like that. You were never more than a friend. You're not sure why you had to bring up Kana, but you think maybe it's because you wanted to stab him in the chest and make him feel the pain you've suffered since the moment you saw Tohru laying on the cold ground.

Hatori is quiet. A part of you _[a part you lost your grip on a long time ago] _tells you to stop. Because he knows this hurt, this _ache_, and you don't want to dredge up memories he'd probably rather forget. You wonder for a second if he wishes his memories were erased, too.

You wish he would erase your memories but you don't want to forget.

You just want it all to stop.

You leave.

* * *

_a/n: Hi, everyone! It's Friday! Are you excited? I know I am. This chapter is really quite long, and it's updated very quickly. I'm trying to make up for the fact that the update time between chapters 1 & 2 was very long. And I did a bit of a time skip, a week after the funeral. Within that time, as you can probably guess, Kyo has been a complete mess. He's not eating or talking, as mentioned in this chapter. That's not good :o_

_Anyway, as always, reviews are very appreciated! I adore hearing your thoughts and it makes me all happy. I practically jump off the walls, even though I'm torturing poor Kyo. So did you love it? Hate it? Cry? Let me know!_


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